


silence is golden (and you've got my hopes up)

by theparabatri



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Musician!Alec, rated m just to be safe really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparabatri/pseuds/theparabatri
Summary: Magnus looks like art, and for the first time in a while Alec wishes he had his phone on him, just so he could snap a picture.aka where alec where goes on a holiday, of sorts, and maybe comes back with more than just a souvenir





	silence is golden (and you've got my hopes up)

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever big bang! oooh exciting! 
> 
> HUGE thank you to [shabelys](http://nerdyfangirl57.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing so late on (i'm sorry lol) and to [thabby](http://atswim-twocows.tumblr.com/) for providing some lovely artwork, and to both of you for being totally chill when life happened and i had to completely change my fic idea
> 
> and of course thank you to the mods for hosting! (and for also being totally cool with me changing my fic idea part-way through)
> 
> and lastly if you wanna come say hi i'm [@theparabatri](http://theparabatri.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!

Alec knows something’s wrong when on Monday afternoon his car keeps driving past his usual meeting building and heads straight on towards the highway.

“Raj? What’s going on?” Alec leans forward as far as his seatbelt will let him to try and get a glance at the car’s built-in GPS. “Have we changed venue?”

“Something like that,” Raj hums. There’s the beginnings of a smirk playing at his lips and Alec doesn’t like it one bit. Something’s up.

“Something like-? Where are we going?” Alec squints at the screen but it offers no help.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Raj says, and then switches the radio on, flicking between stations until he finds one playing 80s hits. Alec slumps back in his seat. Guess that’s the end of that conversation then.

He sits back and watches out the window for a while until the buildings start to thin out, and that’s when he starts to worry a little. The problem with almost always having a driver at your disposal is that you never have to learn your way around the city. Alec doesn’t have a fucking clue where he is.

He calls Maia. Probably should’ve done that the second Raj kept driving really, but oh well.

“Please tell me you’ve changed my schedule and Raj isn’t actually kidnapping me,” he says when Maia finally picks up. In the rear view mirror Raj meets his eye and laughs. Hardly reassuring.

“I changed your schedule,” Maia confirms.

“Oh? What is it, photoshoot? Or is it that charity thing you told me about the other day because-”

“I changed your schedule,” Maia repeats, “in that you no longer have a schedule. As of this morning you’re officially on holiday. Surprise!”

Alec laughs, more out of discomfort than anything else. Because he doesn’t _do_ holidays. He doesn’t know how to, not when he’s been working non-stop for the past five years, making music, making a name for himself, earning respect from industry bigwigs and a few awards along with it. And as far as he’s concerned he’s more than happy to keep on for the next five. Or at least until he gets that Grammy.

“That’s the problem,” Maia says when Alec explains. “You’re wearing yourself out. Five years is a long time with no downtime, Alec.”

“Bullshit,” Alec scoffs. He covers the microphone and leans forward to tell Raj to turn the car around at the next junction. “I get Christmas and my birthday off, that’s plenty. All the downtime I need.”

“That’s only a couple of days, you know full well it’s not enough.” Maia’s using her stern manager voice, the one Alec’s not normally subjected to. Usually it’s reserved for over-greedy executives in various meetings and for phone calls with people Alec’s never met on the other end of the line. It makes him feel like he’s being scolded by his parents, he’s half expecting Maia to come out with something about not being upset, just disappointed. “You’re stretching yourself thin, don’t think we haven’t noticed. That _I_ haven’t noticed.”

“That’s not true,” Alec argues. “I’ve just been having trouble sleeping.” Technically it’s not a lie. Even if the reason he’s having trouble sleeping is because he’s not actually setting himself enough time aside to properly rest.

“Exactly! Perfect time for a holiday! Just a few days to catch up on sleep and all those other basic survival necessities you’ve been neglecting.”

Alec doesn’t even bother trying to hold back the huge sigh he lets out. He can barely cope for a few hours doing nothing, never mind days. It leaves him with an antsy feeling like he’s wasting precious time away. This holiday or whatever it’s supposed to be will be torture.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Lightwood. And Raj is under strict instructions so don’t even _try_ to bribe him, because I will find out,” Maia warns.

Alec looks out the window again. By now they’re speeding on the highway with nothing but greenery on either side. “Where am I even going?” he asks eventually, knowing that with this question he’s conceding to Maia.

“It’s a surprise,” Maia says. She sounds amused and Alec scowls. Everyone seems to be in on this dumb joke except him. He hates feeling excluded, it reminds him of when he was new to the industry, back when he was made to go to all these fancy events where everyone knew each other but no one knew him, and no one was willing to extend an olive branch and introduce themselves.

“You know I don’t like surprises,” he tries. Maybe with a bit of luck Maia will have forgotten how much he ended up enjoying that surprise birthday meal Izzy organised for him last year.

“Nice try,” Maia says. “I’m your manager, I know you inside out.”

“Apart from the part where you forgot how much I hate holidays. And how I don’t _need_ -”

“Quit whining, Alec, it’s all sorted now. Non-refundable.” Like money is even a problem at this point. Maybe it would have worked when Alec was first starting out, and he had to borrow Simon’s shitty old amp for the handful of shows he performed in dive bars across New York because his own one blew up and his parents wouldn’t buy him another one. But not anymore, not now that he has record deals and advertising agreements coming out of his ears. “Anyway, I have to go.”

“Maia, wait-” Alec’s not argued all his points yet. He reckons given another twenty minutes or so he’d have Maia convinced, and Raj would be turning the car around and bringing him back to his house. Back to album number five that is desperately waiting to be written.

“Sorry, Alec. Important meeting. We’ll speak in a few days, okay? Have fun!”

“But I-”

“Oh, and this goes without saying, but please don’t do anything stupid while you're gone. I’ll see you in a while.”

Those familiar beeps tell Alec that this conversation is well and truly over, but he keeps his phone to his ear for an extra few seconds before dropping it in his lap. He rests his chin in his hand and watches Raj take the next exit, and as far as he can tell they’re not near any airports. So there goes his glimmer of hope of at least going somewhere with exotic weather and a chance to come back with a healthy tan.

He turns back to his phone and checks Twitter, replies to a few people, and when he’s all caught up he switches over to Instagram where just a few minutes ago Simon posted a photo of some new pair of shoes he was given by some fancy company. Alec texts him.

_Hey goody new shoes I need your help._

Simon must still be on his phone because his reply is, thankfully, instant.

_what’s up?_

_Maia’s forcing me on holiday. Call her off for me?_

A few seconds later Alec’s phone rings, Simon’s name and drunken contact photo from the record label’s holiday party last year popping up on the screen.

“So that’s this week is it?” Simon asks as soon as Alec picks up.

“You- you knew about this too? Just how many people are in on this goddamn force-Alec-on-holiday plan?”

“Oh, you know Maia,” Simon says. “Pretty much the whole label. Plus your sister. And a few friends.”

Alec rubs a palm over his face. “Jesus.”

“You know, actually, I don’t think _he_ knows.”

“Shut up,” Alec groans. “You have to get me out of it, Simon. Wherever Raj is taking me, you can come and pick me up, okay? And I’ll just stay low-key for the next few days or whatever, pretend I was there all along.”

“Sorry, Alec, no can do. Maia made me promise not to crack.”

“Come on, Simon. I’ll pay for your gas. There and back,” Alec bargains. He’s not above bribery, especially not with Simon. It’s worked before. Multiple times.

“Wow, a whole tank of gas,” Simon snarks, “lucky me. And here I was thinking you were drowning in money from your, like, bajillion record sales or whatever number it’s at now.”

“I’m not _drowning_ in-” Alec huffs out a breath. “Simon.”

“Listen, I’d love to help you man, I really would. But Maia also threatened that she had a ready replacement for me if I caved,” Simon admits, “and as much as I don’t believe her I’d rather not test her, thanks. I like my job.”

“Please, even if the songs you wrote completely tanked you know Maia secretly likes you too much to fire you. She’d just put you on coffee duty.”

“I’m already on coffee duty. Speaking of, I gotta go.”

“Wait, you’re all still working?”

“Of course,” Simon laughs. “The world doesn’t revolve around you _all_ the time, Alec. At least not while you’re on holiday. So enjoy. And when you come back maybe I’ll have some new material for you to have a look at, give it the old Alec once over.”

“Fine,” Alec relents. He catches himself scowling in the reflection on the window and attempts to straighten out his features, remembering Izzy teasing him about premature wrinkles just a few weeks ago. “Can you at least tell me where I’m going before you hang up and leave me to my doom?”

“Now _that_ I don’t know. I think maybe Maia mentioned something about some sort of retreat? Or, actually, maybe that was for her mom… I can’t remember. Sorry, man.”

“Brilliant,” Alec grumbles. A retreat. Just what he needs. Probably full of middle-aged women trying to find themselves in the form of spa treatments and yoga. And he wouldn’t put it past his sister not to have convinced Maia to send him to some sort of nudist colony, or something equally likely to disturb him for the rest of his life.

He hangs up with Simon and Raj tells him it’ll be about a half hour before they get to where they’re supposed to be. So Alec sinks down in his seat, pulls his hood up so it’s covering his eyes, and naps.

When he opens his eyes again the car’s parked on a gravel driveway outside a pretty sizeable stately home. There’s not much else around, no other cars ‒ although there is a sign directing to a parking lot around the side ‒ no other properties, and no people. Just a single-track road, lined by trees either side, that stretches on for about a mile or two before it disappears down a dip.

“Perfect timing,” Raj says when he realises Alec’s awake. “We’ve arrived.” Alec reluctantly unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door handle, only to be stopped by Raj’s voice. “Oh! Maia packed a bag for you, it’s in the back. She said it should have everything you need.”

“Right. Thanks. I guess I’ll see you in a few days. Don’t miss me too much.”

“I’ll try,” Raj chuckles.

Alec waits until Raj has set off back down the driveway before he makes his way towards the building.

He takes it slowly, hesitating just a moment to take a few deep breaths. He's so used to travelling from city to city, it makes a change to be able to soak up the fresh country air.

Warmth hits him as soon as he crosses the building threshold, and Alec is more than a little surprised just how modernly furnished the place is. From the outside he expected it to be a lot more outdated, with ancient furniture and floral monstrosities everywhere like he remembers his grandparents’ home to be when he was little.

To the left there’s a reception desk spanning almost the entire length of the room, and across from it are two leather sofas and a coffee table with a tidy stack of magazines and brochures on it.

There are three receptionists behind the desk which Alec thinks is a bit excessive for a place like this, and as he approaches the counter one of the women nudges the other with a giddy smile on her face. She knows who he is, then.

He decides to leave them to it and turns to the man there instead.

“Uh, I guess I’m here to check in?” he says. Is that what happens in places like this?

“Of course,” the receptionist says. “May I ask what name the booking’s under?”

“It’s Alec. Lightwood.”

It’s silent for a moment as the receptionist types and clicks away at his computer, and then it’s, “Ah, yes, Mr Lightwood,” said in a voice that clearly means Maia had told them he was some sort of celebrity when she was booking it. It makes his nose wrinkle. “Welcome to Mayflower Retreat.”

After click around on the computer he excuses himself to collect Alec’s room key, and he comes back with a tray too, one which reminds Alec of those ones you stick all your coins and your watch and things in when you go through airport security.

“Now, as you know, this is a silent retreat programme-”

“Wait, a what?!” Alec bursts out. “Silent- god damn it, Maia.”

She’s sent him headfirst into his own personal version of hell. No music. No work. Alec wants this so-called holiday to be over before it’s begun. Surely Raj can’t have made it any more than a few miles away yet.

He takes his phone out to demand Maia to send someone - Raj or otherwise - to come pick him up under threat of being fired but of course he has no signal. He paces around the reception area, holding his phone up high and down low while the receptionists each look on with shared amusement, but nothing.

“Oh, you won’t get service here,” one of the women supplies eventually. “One of the features of this place. It’s off the grid, so to speak.”

“Fantastic,” Alec mutters, “that’s just great.” There’s no wifi either, he’s checked. “You have a landline I can use?”

It’s the man who answers this time, “We do. However I highly encourage you to give this retreat a try. We’ve had a few other celebrity clients, just like you up in arms about not being able to use their phone, but they all ended up thoroughly enjoying their stay here. We’re sure by this time tomorrow you won’t want to leave.”

It’s a bold statement. Probably some spiel straight from an employee training handbook, but Alec takes a second to think it over anyhow. The phone’s just there, he could so easily call someone to pick him up. But now that he’s here he’s not sure he can handle spending another few hours in a car today, not to mention the disappointment he’ll have to put up with from Maia for the next however long.

And as much as he hates to admit it, he’s actually a little curious what a place like this entails.

“Fine,” he agrees. “One night.”

The receptionist’s face lights up, like his whole year has just been made by those three little words. “Great! If you’d like to place all electronics in here, or anything valuable you’d like us to look after, we’ll keep them safe in a locker for you until you check out.”

Alec switches his phone off and dumps it in the tray provided, along with his headphones and the chargers he digs out of his bag, because looks like he won’t be needing those either. The receptionist disappears with his belongings and comes back a moment later with a couple of keys.

“This is your locker key. And this is your room key. Number twenty-one, it’s just through that door and up the stairs.” He directs Alec to the set of double doors like it’s not the only other door in the room except for the exit. “Your room should be stocked with everything you need, but should something be not up to standard just pop down here and we’ll sort it out for you.”

“Sure. Thanks.” He slides both keys into his palm and picks up his bag.

“Remember, once you’re through that door, no talking if you can help it.”

Alec mimes zipping his lips, rolling his eyes once he’s walking to the door and no longer facing the reception desk. But rolling his eyes at who, he’s not sure. Maia for booking this damn thing, himself for eventually agreeing, or maybe just this entire concept. The whole point of holidays is to not have rules, right? Not to force someone - a musician, of all people - to live in total silence for the better part of a week.

Well, he thinks, here goes nothing.

  


-

  


Alec expected the place would be full of old people, but when he goes to dinner that night he’s pleasantly surprised (and maybe a little relieved) to be surrounded by people of all ages there in the dining room. A few people meet his eyes as he walks past, but whether that’s because they recognise him as singer/songwriter Alec Lightwood or if they’ve just noticed a new guest, he couldn’t say.

The food’s laid out in a buffet style, and that’s another worry of Alec’s banished. He’d been convinced he’d be spending his entire stay playing a constant game of charades. He fills a plate and takes it over to an empty table by the big bay window.

As he eats his pork chop he examines the other guests in the room. Most of them are like him, sat alone at their own table, some with a book or a newspaper in one hand. But there are a few people who are obviously couples scattered about the room, and Alec, he‒ well, he doesn’t get it. Spending money to come on holiday with your partner and not communicate the entire time. Seems a bit pointless to him. But to each their own, he supposes, and then takes another bite of his meal.

He almost slips up when he goes back up to get some dessert. He’s too preoccupied with trying to grab a spoon out of the cutlery tray without making a stupid amount of noise that he doesn’t realise he’s causing a hold-up. It’s only a couple of people, but Alec blushes all the same.

He opens his mouth to apologise, but the guy in front of him quickly presses his forefinger to Alec’s lips. He raises an amused eyebrow, wags the finger at Alec and then reaches round him for a spoon (which he manages without making a sound, Alec notices).

The silk of his shirt brushes against Alec’s arm, but as he hands a spoon over, Alec is more preoccupied by the gold streaks peppering the front of his spiked hair. He’s a bit of a character, matching his silk shirt with a pair of sweatpants and slippers, kind of like he couldn’t quite decide where he was spending his evening so ended up dressing for both options.

After giving Alec a final smile he takes his dessert and returns to his table across the room, Alec’s eyes following him as he waves at a few of the different tables he passes.

For a brief moment Alec considers the possibility that this holiday might not be quite as bad as he first thought.

 

-

 

With no alarm clock to wake him Alec sleeps all the way through until ten the next morning. It’s the longest night’s sleep he’s had in awhile but its benefits are quickly lost on Alec as he wakes up disoriented in his new surroundings. Realising he has only half an hour left to get breakfast he soon rolls out of bed and investigates the bag Maia has packed for him.

Everything has that brand new smell about it; t-shirts, jumpers, sweatpants, jeans, stuff he’s never seen before that Maia must’ve sent an assistant out to buy. He picks out a black t-shirt and the dark grey sweatpants and heads to the dining room, only patting his empty pockets to check for his phone three times on the way.

He’s halfway through his bowl of cereal when Alec spots him again. The man from yesterday evening who Alec can’t pretend he hasn’t thought about a few times since. Passing through the dining room with a yoga mat tucked under his arm and his hair looking sleep-soft, his silk shirt replaced by a plain black henley that clings to his biceps and broad shoulders sinfully. When he notices Alec he gives him a wave.

Alec raises his glass of orange juice in greeting, his gaze never leaving the man as he crosses the room and leaves through the set of double doors that lead to the bedrooms. Alec thinks nothing more of it than a simple friendly gesture until a few minutes later, when the man comes back and makes his way over to the empty chair opposite him.

He sits down with an easy smile on his face and waits as Alec finishes his breakfast. If it were anyone else, Alec would find it unnerving. Finished or not, he would’ve left the dining room as soon as possible, retreating to his room and spending the rest of his stay with a careful lookout.

But there’s something about this guy that makes Alec stay. He figures maybe it’s because he’s already so desperate for some human interaction, even if it means having to communicate in wild gestures and mouthed words.

(Or maybe it’s the butterflies in his stomach. God, it’s been a while.)

There’s an amused glint in the man’s eyes which makes him look like he’s about to lean in and tell Alec in hushed tones about the funny thing that happened to him at the supermarket last week. And Alec wants to know. Stays glued to his seat as the man reaches across the table for what, Alec doesn’t really know ‒ until there’s a sharp tug on the sleeve of his t-shirt.

Alec doesn’t blush because he left the price tag on his t-shirt. He blushes at the price on the tag ‒ because apparently Maia’s assistant went out and bought him the most expensive black t-shirt she could find. For some reason Alec is compelled to explain himself, that he doesn’t normally wear stuff this extortionately priced, and he searches around the room as if to find a way to do so.

There’s a pen two tables over, obviously left by someone who spent their morning doing a crossword while they ate, so Alec hops up and grabs it. He takes the tag from where it rests on the table between them and under curious eyes he quickly scrawls, _I promise I don’t normally wear t-shirts this expensive_.

There’s not much blank space on the tag but he just about manages to fit all the words in, and slides the tag back across to the other man who immediately flashes a look that says, _really?_ His lip twitches like he’s fighting a grin, and Alec has to try his hardest not to make some remark about a certain fancy silk shirt from yesterday evening.

The man reaches over to hold the pen, but he doesn’t take it from Alec’s grip. Instead he asks _may I?_ with a simple raise of his brow, politely waiting for Alec to nod before retracting his hand. He takes the label too, writing in small, slanted script: _Magnus_.

Alec always thought it was stupid, the idea that someone can suit their name, but somehow Magnus suits his. Alec can’t imagine him being someone else.

Magnus hands the pen back. Alec decides fair is fair and scribbles his own name in what’s left of the blank space on the label, rewarded by a nod of approval from Magnus.

Alec wants to keep talking - well, writing - but their cramped handwriting already fills up the blank space on the label. Somehow, through a series of wild gestures and a lot of frowning and tilting of heads, they reach the decision to go to the library. (Turns out Magnus was miming reading a book, and not actually giving Alec a weird round of silent applause.)

They situate themselves in a reading nook in one of the far corners of the surprisingly large library. Alec curls up on the sofa and waits for Magnus to return with the stack of papers and pens he was searching for and gracefully lower himself into the armchair opposite from Alec.

Alec reckons they look like a pair of schoolkids to anyone watching them, passing notes back and forth, each one revealing a little more about one another. They come to an unspoken agreement of a fact for a fact, Alec telling Magnus about Izzy, Max and - a little reluctantly - his parents, while Magnus tells Alec all about his own ‘found family’ back in Brooklyn where he spends his days as an interior designer.

Alec toys with the idea of mentioning that he’s a famous singer. Toys, partly because he hates ever referring to himself as famous, but mostly because Magnus doesn’t seem to recognise him at all. He doesn’t want to jog Magnus’ memory and end up making things weird between them. Not that Alec reckons it can get much weirder than having to pass notes in total silence.

In the end Magnus settles his internal dilemma, asking him what he does for a living.

 _I’m a singer & songwriter, _ Alec writes, holding his breath, just waiting for Magnus to twig who he is and for things to get awkward. But Magnus just looks confused.

_How does a musician end up at a silent retreat?_

Alec smiles. _His overbearing manager._

_Do you miss it - the music?_

_Stupidly._

When Magnus reads Alec’s answer he gets a sly smile on his face. He’s up to something. But Alec can’t ask what because Magnus’ eyes go comically wide when he gets sight of the clock on the wall.

 _I have to go_ , he scrawls. _Pottery class._ He stands up and gathers the papers they'd been using, tossing them in the recycling as he puts their pens back where they came from.

Meanwhile Alec stays sat in his chair, wondering how on earth he managed to miss the fact there's apparently a full-on pottery studio here at the resort. What else has this place been hiding from him?

Magnus returns, smiling and raising an eyebrow that Alec interprets as _see you later_ \- a statement, not a question, Alec notes - before swiftly making his exit.

 

-

 

Turns out that, as well as the pottery studio, there's a swimming pool.

And tennis courts. And a gym, a spa, the library, and a whole host of other facilities that Alec discovers while spending the afternoon exploring the resort.

In doing so, he bumps into a few people who seem to recognise him, their eyes widening as he enters a room, doing a double take when he passes them in a hallway, but ever the expert at making swift escapes, Alec manages to avoid any actual interaction with them. He can’t wait to see what they’ll be writing about him on Twitter after he leaves.

By the time he’s finished exploring, Alec’s stomach is growling with hunger. He decides to have an early dinner as soon as they start serving at five, which gives him just enough time to go back to his room to freshen up and change. No one here cares, but Alec still feels like he should put on a proper pair of jeans to wear to the dining room. It’s just manners.

Except he doesn’t even make it to the dining room.

Magnus intercepts him just as he makes it to the bottom of the stairs, seemingly popping up from nowhere and making Alec almost jump out of his skin. Magnus grins like that was his intention all along, but then his expression softens as he gently grabs Alec by the wrist, surprising him once more. Magnus’ hand is soft and warm and it feels good against Alec’s skin. For a moment it’s hard to focus on anything else.

Alec arches a brow. _What’s up?_

Magnus cocks his head down the corridor, the opposite direction of the dining hall. Alec’s earlier exploring tells him that the only thing down there is bedrooms. Which can only mean one thing. Magnus tugs Alec forwards a few steps, but waits for Alec to nod at him before going any further.

Magnus’ room is one of the furthest down the hallway, and he keeps turning round to check on Alec as he leads him along. Alec flashes him a reassuring smile each time, but who out of the two of them he’s actually trying to reassure he couldn’t say.

As they get ever closer to Magnus’ room, Alec’s heart rate picks up. The anticipation, the uncertainness, the unfamiliarity of what he’s doing getting to him. It makes to change to be reckless. Usually he has Maia breathing down his neck telling him to _be careful, Alec_ , which is sweet of her, sure, but more than a little overbearing.

Glancing over his shoulder one last time, Magnus unlocks his door and ushers Alec into his room. As he enters, Alec hears another of the nearby doors opening, and right now he’s glad there are no phones allowed, because he can’t imagine what the press would make if a photo were to surface of him disappearing into a bedroom with a total stranger. Although, Alec thinks briefly, that would be _one_ way to get Maia to allow him home.

Magnus’ room is pretty much the same as Alec’s. A double bed instead of Alec’s queen and an armchair instead of a sofa, but everything else is an exact copy.

Magnus closes the door behind them and brushes past Alec to crouch down at the bag at the end of his bed, digging around and shoving shirts and pants and underwear to the side until he finds what he needs.

Alec can’t see what it is at first, a small black object fitting easily into Magnus’ grip. It’s only when Magnus stands back up and holds his palm out to Alec he realises it’s an MP3 player - one of the ones Alec hasn’t seen since he was barely a teenager, that runs on AA batteries with the tiniest screen and just a few buttons. Alec reckons it probably only holds about a couple hundred or so songs.

Still, Magnus has this smug glint in his eyes which makes him look like the kid at school who was convinced he should work for the CIA after managing to sneak his phone out in class undetected. Alec _feels_ like a school kid, eyeing Magnus’ bedroom door as if one of the staff members or one of the other residents will burst in any moment and bust them.

Magnus lies down on his bed, switching his MP3 on and sticking one earbud in his right ear. There’s an obvious space next to him, and Alec doesn’t want to assume, but then Magnus is beckoning him over with an eager hand and even more eager eyes. So Alec kicks off his shoes and lowers himself next to Magnus, close enough so that the light dusting of hair on Magnus’ arm tickles his skin. It’s a double bed, and he feels a bit silly lying this close, but the earphone cord will only stretch so far.

Bowie is already playing when he puts the earbud in his left ear, the instruments tinny through Magnus’ cheap earphones. Alec nudges Magnus’ elbow and gives him an approving smile. Magnus instantly returns it.

They shuffle through a number of songs and it turns out they have quite a similar music taste, classics like Bowie, Queen, and the Beatles, some of the songs that influenced Alec’s own music. And then there’s some more recent artists; Adele, The 1975, Lorde, and a few tracks from some singer-songwriter types that Alec’s never heard before but makes a mental note to look up when he gets home.

He briefly wonders if any of his own songs are on there, or if it’s too big-headed to think things like that. Especially when Magnus has shown no real signs of recognition so far.

He closes his eyes and they cycle through a few more songs. Once Ed sings out the last notes of _Thinking Out Loud_ Alec looks over at Magnus again. His eyes are shut and his breathing is deep and even; he’s fallen asleep. Alec takes his earbud out and sits up, careful not to jostle the bed as he takes the MP3 player from where it’s resting on the rise and fall of Magnus’ chest, and he presses the stop button. Carefully he removes Magnus’ earbud too, coils the wire and then turns the machine off.

After his shoes are back on he scribbles a note using the complementary notepad and pen the resort supplies each room with on the desk.

_Thank you_

_-Alec_

He places the MP3 player next to the note, takes one last glance at Magnus’ peaceful form, and then goes to dinner alone.

 

-

 

Alec wakes up at six the next morning and, annoyingly, once he’s up, he’s up.

With another hour until they begin serving breakfast, Alec digs some running gear out of his bag, mentally thanking Maia and her assistant for packing seemingly everything Alec might ever need, and makes his way outside. It’s a bit chilly out, but by the time he’s on his second lap of the resort perimeter Alec is glad for it.

He can’t remember the last time he went on a proper run rather than just squeezing in an odd hour on the gym treadmill here and there. It’s a little unsettling at first, not to have his headphones on, blasting his running playlist to keep him motivated. But it’s okay. The steady thumping of his footsteps on the ground gives him something to listen to, even if it doesn’t provide much of a distraction.

Because he can’t stop thinking about Magnus.

Inviting Alec back to his room, the two of them laid on his bed, close, so close, sharing a moment Alec can only describe as intimate. His stomach twists just thinking about it. And he can’t help but imagine what might’ve happened, what could’ve happened, had Magnus not fallen asleep.

He and Magnus inching closer and closer until they’re pressed together, skin on skin contact, silent except for their heavy breathing and the thud of Alec’s heartbeat in his ears - the MP3 tossed quickly aside, long forgotten…

Alec takes that as his cue to go back to his room and shower.

When he finally makes it to breakfast, fresh and clean and feeling better than he has done in a long time, Magnus is already there.

Alec is almost embarrassed to admit that the first thing he did was scan the room for the other man, but at least Magnus didn't notice. He's too busy sketching away in a little notebook he has at his table.

Alec gets himself a bowl of cereal and fetches it over to the seat opposite Magnus. Suddenly aware of the new presence, Magnus looks up from his work, eyes instantly warming when he recognises Alec. He smiles, a good morning greeting, and then goes back to his sketching.

Alec watches.

The deft movement of Magnus’ hand as he draws, the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates. One man shouldn’t be this beautiful, Alec thinks. It’s dangerous.

Alec finishes his breakfast, and Magnus finishes his drawing, standing and tucking his notebook in his jacket pocket as he cocks his head towards the door. Alec takes that as his cue to get up and follow.

Magnus takes Alec to a section of the resort he’d avoided yesterday. The hallway they’re in obviously leads to the kitchens, so Alec automatically assumed it was out of bounds. Or at least there was nothing of interest down there.

But Magnus continues walking, spinning round and raising one eyebrow as he backs through one of the doors. He laughs at Alec’s confused expression, grabbing the front of Alec’s shirt to get him to follow him completely into the kitchen. Alec tries his hardest to resist Magnus, Maia’s words flashing through his mind reminding him not to do anything stupid. The last thing he wants is to be kicked out for trespassing in the kitchens, of all places. He can't imagine the merciless teasing he'd receive from Izzy when he got home.

But Magnus is strong, and Alec is caught off guard, so he’s helpless to do anything but let himself be pulled through the door.

Into a kitchen which is bustling, although not with staff.

When Alec glances around he recognises some familiar faces. Other residents, all dotted around the room at different stations, face towards one single worktop at the front.

It's a cooking class, Alec realises, pleasantly surprised. Before frowning and wondering how on earth a cooking class works in total silence.

Magnus leads him over to one of the workbenches, tying an apron neatly around his body before doing the same to Alec; a matching pair in black and white stripes.

At the front of the class the instructor signals that they’re beginning. It’s a simple cookie recipe, the ingredients already measured and laid out for them ready to use, and the instructor starts going through the steps slowly so everyone can follow along.

Alec instinctively takes control, another neglected hobby of his biting at the chance of finally being shown some love after all this time.

He tries to patiently follow along with the instructor. That’s what he planned to do. But Magnus has other ideas.

He tosses the remaining ingredients into the bowl all at once, a devilish grin materialising on his face when he misses the bowl and ends up covering Alec’s front in flour.

Alec immediately jumps back, holding back a remark about how it feels like he’s back in the kitchen with his little brother again. Flour flies from him in all directions. Magnus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

Without second thought he grabs a handful and tosses it back at Magnus, who is momentarily shocked.

And then it’s all out war - a war in which Magnus has an unfair advantage when he looks so distractingly good even covered head to toe in flour.

He calls a truce, reaching his hand out towards Magnus, ready to brush some of the flour away - mainly an excuse just to touch. But then he becomes painfully aware of a dozen or so sets of eyes all on him.

Him and Magnus.

Head to toe in flour.

He doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or for the floor to open up and swallow him whole and transport him to a whole other dimension where no one has any memory of this ever happening.

He looks at Magnus. Magnus looks back. He shrugs once.

In a millisecond he’s grabbing Alec by the hand and pulling him towards the door. It’s so hard not to burst out laughing as they turn their aprons in, as they burst through the kitchen door and shake off the remainder of the flour, as they make their way back through the hallways of the resort.

Alec feels giddy with joy. He hasn’t felt this carefree in years.

Being in here it feels like the outside world doesn’t exist. There are no deadlines, no heavy expectations from his record label and no crazed fans or overbearing parents weighing him down. No trashy websites writing untruths about him.

There’s just Magnus.

And the only thing Magnus wants from Alec is Alec. It’s refreshing.

They reach the staircase, the point where their paths diverge, and Alec gives Magnus a final smile before turning to head up to his room. But he’s stopped by Magnus grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him back in close. Alec’s heartbeat picks up again. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He’s close enough to see all the individual shades of brown in Magnus’ eyes, shining even in the dull light of the hallway.

Magnus lets go of Alec’s hand, slowly bringing his own hand up to rest against Alec’s cheek. His palm is warm and soft and Alec is doing everything in his power not to nuzzle into it. He has no idea what’s happening, but he doesn’t want to ruin it. Not yet.

Magnus’ thumb swipes across Alec’s cheekbone, just once, and then his hand is gone and Alec’s cheek is suddenly cold and of course Magnus was just wiping away some stray flour. Alec wants to laugh at himself for thinking it was anything more.

He smiles again at Magnus, dimmer than before, and wants nothing more than to go back to his room and get cleaned up and put this whole thing out of his mind.

Only Magnus’ hand is back again, gentle, and his eyes are asking _may I?_ as he leans in closer, closer.

Alec’s answer is to close the distance completely.

The kiss is tender at first, sweet and slow their mouths move against one another’s, until Alec feels the press of Magnus’ tongue and all coherent thought is gone.

He grabs at the front of Magnus’ shirt, simultaneously pulling him impossibly closer while crowding him towards the wall behind him, his lips not once parting the other man’s.

Beneath his hands Alec can feel how heavy Magnus’ breathing has become. Heck, he can hear it filling the hallway whenever they break apart for more air.

 _He_ did that. He made Magnus feel this way.

Alec allows himself a private smile, one which Magnus matches with just a quirk of his lips that makes Alec want to dive in for more.

But then there’s the clearing of a throat behind them, springing them back to their senses and surroundings, and they both quickly untangle themselves from each other and hopelessly attempt to straighten their clothes and pretend they weren’t just making out in the hallway like a couple of horny teenagers.

Alec glances at Magnus, whose face is the picture of impatience, thumb and forefinger rubbing his lips as he waits for the distraction to leave.

 _Don’t do anything stupid_ , Lydia’s voice echoes through his mind again.

Too late now, Alec thinks, as Magnus meets his gaze, his eyes lighting up with mischief and affection.

There are alarm bells going off in Alec’s stomach, telling him to look away, warning him that this isn't what he came here for.

But he can't move.

He's rooted to the spot, and Magnus is the one holding him there.

 

-

 

There isn’t a cloud in the sky when Alec opens his curtains in the morning, so he grabs a croissant for breakfast, peruses the library until he finds a book that interests him, dons his coat and goes to sit on one of the sun loungers on the patio area outside. It’s a bit chilly, it’s still only spring after all, but occasionally the wind will drop and Alec will feel a glimpse of summer.

Sometime later Magnus appears. Alec’s so absorbed in his book - it’s been forever since he’s had enough time to really get stuck into a novel - he only realizes Magnus is there when he suddenly finds himself engulfed by a shadow.

Magnus is grinning down at him, eyes soft - maybe even a little shy, and there’s a steaming cup of coffee in his hand which he hands down to Alec. Alec tucks his makeshift leaf-bookmark into the page and puts his book to one side, flashing Magnus a look of gratitude as he takes the mug and wraps his stiff fingers around it.

Magnus is dressed to go out today, wearing proper jeans instead of sweatpants, and the slippers usually found on his feet have been replaced by sturdy boots. Topped off with a green military-style coat and a black scarf tied neatly around his neck.

He perches carefully on the lounger a few feet away from Alec’s, and Alec watches him stare off into the distance. His hair is expertly swooped on the top of his head, except for a few loose wisps that have dropped down onto his forehead, knocked free in the breeze.

He looks like art, and for the first time in a while Alec wishes he had his phone on him, just so he could snap a picture. Instead he makes a frame out of his fingers and lines up the shot he would’ve taken of Magnus’ sunlit profile. When Magnus realises what he’s doing he scrunches his nose and pulls a face.

A fond laugh escapes Alec, and he checks around to see if anyone heard. He’s still has that lingering feeling that the staff here are just waiting for him to make a noise so they can catch him out, give him a slap on the wrist or a detention like at school. But there’s no one, the closest people are over at the garden plot a little way away, too enthralled by whatever it is they’re tending to to even notice Alec and Magnus are there.

They end up leaving Alec’s empty cup and book on his lounger to take a stroll through the gardens. Their bodies are close as they follow the narrow path around, and Alec would be lying if he said the way his hand keeps brushing the back of Magnus’ is an accident.

When they eventually reach the fence that outlines the boundary of the property Magnus doesn’t hesitate to unpeg the gate and hold it open for Alec. He points to the sign that tells them they’re now leaving the grounds and he has that look on his face again, the same one as when he produced the MP3 player out of his bag the other evening.

Alec shakes his head in amusement, but goes through the gate anyway, and as he passes, Magnus takes hold of his wrist and spins him so that they're facing each other. Alec wonders if he's changed his mind.

But then, oh.

Magnus brings his hands up to cup Alec’s face, gently, so gently, not once breaking eye contact with Alec as he asks, _is this okay?_

Alec answers by closing the space between them.

The kiss is short and sweet, barely more than a peck, and Magnus’ lips are just as soft as Alec remembers them to be.

Magnus smiles, strokes his thumb across Alec’s cheek, just once, before letting go and setting off down the path. Alec watches him go, rooted to the spot while he catches his breath. Magnus makes him feel things he hasn't let himself feel in years, and it's equal parts exhilarating and exhausting.

In the best way possible, Alec decides, striding to catch up with Magnus.

Thankfully they both have the same idea, making their way to the trail which leads them up to the top of one of the nearby hills. It’s a generous slope, although not too steep, the dusty path shaded by trees which make it feel a degree or two colder than it was back in the bright sun of the resort gardens. Alec wishes he’d worn a warmer sweater.

About halfway up the hill Magnus’ hand finds Alec’s, tangling their fingers together and squeezing, and Alec can’t help the stupid grin that spreads across his face. He glances over at Magnus and he appears to be much better at keeping his cool, face composed save for the corners of his mouth quirked up and the amusement that flashes in his eyes when he meets Alec’s.

When they reach the top of the trail there’s a small clearing in the trees, offering pokey views here and there of the resort all that distance away at the foot of the hill. There are picnic benches too, dotted about the slightly overgrown grass, and a faded swingset tucked to one side. Alec can imagine it being a popular destination with families when the height of summer arrives.

Alec tugs Magnus over to one of the gaps in the trees. There's a small sign telling them what they're looking at, a bit of history about the area, but neither of them read it. Instead, Alec keeps his gaze on the view. And Magnus keeps his on Alec.

It's so peaceful up here. Nobody but the two of them, hand in hand, the sun warm on their backs. The rustling of leaves in the breeze and the birds chirping in the trees providing them a soundtrack. Alec feels a new kind of calm wash over him. It’s like they're in their own little world, and Alec finds he wouldn't mind staying.

Maia was right. He really needed this.

Finally, Magnus slips his hand out of Alec’s, giving him a soft smile and going to sit at one of the picnic tables. It's silly but Alec already misses Magnus’ hand in his own.

He turns and watches Magnus who is tilting his head back and closing his eyes, soaking up the warmth from the sun high in the sky. He looks angelic. Soft and kissable, warm and safe, and every other nice word Alec’s ever come across. Magnus deserves them all.

It’s kind of scary how much Alec feels for this man he’s only just met.

Alec wonders what Maia will make of all this. Sending him off for a few days holiday only for him to come back with a boyfriend. If that’s what Magnus even wants this to be. If that’s what Alec himself wants it to be. He’s not sure.

The two of them, they could talk about this now - like the sign said, they’re officially off resort grounds, they don’t need to stay quiet - but Alec finds he doesn’t want to speak. The silence is comfortable; no one to impress, no pressure for anyone to fill it like he sometimes feels when he’s back home or at work.

And there’s a small worry in the back of Alec’s mind: what if Magnus doesn’t want this? One of those people who can’t go on holiday without finding someone to have a casual fling with. Talking might give Alec an answer he doesn’t want to hear.

So he maintains his silence and joins Magnus at the table, sitting beside him, thigh pressed against thigh, despite all the room. When Magnus peeks an eye open, just long enough to grab Alec’s hand and pull it into his lap and start playing with his fingers, Alec decides there's no other way he'd rather spend his afternoon.

 

-

 

To hell with being quiet, Alec decides.

It’s impossible to be, with the sinful things Magnus is doing with his mouth. He only hopes whoever’s staying in the room next door is still out for the day.

He barely remembers how they ended up like this. One moment he was in the dining room, Magnus’ foot hooked around his ankle under the table, rubbing back and forth and distracting Alec stupid.

And now he’s here. In Magnus’ room, on Magnus’ bed. With Magnus on top of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, voice only barely there.

Magnus pauses where he’s trailing kisses down Alec’s chest, coming back up so his face is just inches away from Alec’s. Alec wants to close the distance, kiss him senseless, but in a swift movement Magnus has Alec’s arms pinned above his head, using one hand to hold them in place and the other to bring a finger to Alec’s lips, silencing him with those mischievous eyes.

Alec’s hips buck up automatically, looking for some friction against Magnus’ body. It’s been so long, he almost forgot how good this could feel. If he’s not careful it’ll be over before it’s begun.

Satisfied, Magnus takes his finger away, his lips immediately in its place to press teasing kiss after teasing kiss on Alec’s mouth, pulling back just a few inches every time Alec tries to deepen one of them.

The playful look in Magnus’ eyes suggests he knows exactly how crazy he’s driving Alec, and is clearly enjoying every damn second of it.

It’s torturous.

“Magnus.”

“Shh.”

“Please.”

“We have to be quiet,” Magnus whispers.

Alec’s sigh is a mixture of frustration and sheer _need_. Magnus’ laugh is pure adoration.

Alec uses the distraction to flip the two of them over, Magnus now the one on his back, his unbuttoned shirt slipping away from his chest like an open invitation to Alec. To stare, to touch, to _taste_.

He slides his hands over the smooth skin of Magnus’ chest, marvelling at the way the goosebumps follow the path of his touch, the way Magnus’ breath hitches as Alec’s thumb brushes over a nipple, how fast he can feel Magnus’ heart beating beneath his palm.

That Magnus is just as far gone as he is.

Alec kisses his way down to Magnus’ waist, the salt from Magnus’ skin heavy on his tongue as he makes quick work of the other man’s belt. His eyes never leave Magnus’ as he tosses it to one side.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmurs.

“Stupid idea,” Magnus scoffs. He finally breaks eye contact as his head flops back into the pillow. “Don’t stop, Alec. Please never stop.”

 

-

 

Alec wakes with a start.

The arm slung over his waist is unfamiliar, the weight somehow both comforting and unsettling at the same time. As the memories of last night come rushing in, Alec isn’t sure whether he wants to snuggle in closer to the warm body beside him, or brush Magnus’ arm to one side and get the fuck out of there.

He turns his head to peer at Magnus, still sleeping soundly next to him, not a trace of worry about him. His hair is sticking up in every direction, all soft with sleep, and yesterday’s makeup is smudged around his eyes.

Alec feels his heart swell. He wants to run his hand through that messy hair, wake up Magnus with a kiss to his forehead before they head out to breakfast together, their hands entwined across the tabletop as they steal bites of each other’s food.

And then he wants to do the same thing tomorrow. And the day after. And then all the days after that. Only at some point the resort turns into Alec’s apartment back in the city. And they’ll kiss each other goodbye, but only until they return home from work that night, and then they’ll curl up on the sofa with terrible takeout and even worse movies. And then…

And then the panic sets in again. Alec can’t be feeling all these things, having all these childish daydreams, not when he’s only known Magnus a matter of days. He’s feeling things he’s never felt for anyone before and he doesn’t know what to do with it. The heat under the covers suddenly feels stifling.

He can’t be in this deep already.

Can he?

In a split second Alec makes a decision.

Careful not to jostle the mattress too much, he slides out of Magnus’ bed, silently retrieving last night’s clothes from where they were strewn across the floor in a heady rush that seems so long ago now.

He doesn’t look back when he leaves the room.

He walks back to his own room and packs his bag on autopilot and pastes something that he hopes resembles a smile on his face when he goes to check out. Yes, the stay was lovely, he tells the receptionists. Yes, he’s sad to be leaving so soon.

Alec can see Raj’s car parked out on the driveway waiting for him. He’s never been so glad to see the other man.

As he heads to the car he hears the door to the resort open behind him, and Alec hopes it isn’t who he thinks it is, but also hopes it is.

“Alec.”

Magnus’ voice is softer than Alec expected. He feels his heart quicken.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to leave without saying goodbye.”

“I, uh. I didn’t want to wake you,” Alec says. It’s a poor excuse and he knows it, so he hides his face by putting his bag in the car boot. “Sorry.”

The gravel crunches as Magnus makes his way over. He’s wearing his pyjamas. They must’ve been the closest thing to hand when he woke up and realised Alec was gone. “It’s fine,” he says.

Alec closes the boot and they silently face each other. There are only a few feet between them but right now it feels like a mile.

 _No it’s not_ , he wants to say. But doesn’t.

Magnus is first to break the silence.

“So am I to expect an album to be written about me sometime in the near future, then?” he asks.

Alec blanches. “You know who I am?”

“I expect a mention in the thank-you speech when you finally get your Grammy.”

“ _Magnus_.”

Amusement dances in Magnus’ eyes. Alec’s glad to see it. It’s relief and it’s hope and it’s reassuring.

“Yes, Alec, I know who you are. In fact, you caused quite the stir in pottery class the other day. You should’ve heard the whispers. I almost had to break my silence to let Maria and Agnes know they weren’t quite your type.”

“Almost, huh?”

Magnus waves a hand. “Ah, who am I to shatter their misplaced dreams?”

Alec laughs, shaking his head at the feigned innocence on Magnus’ face. “Such a generous soul.”

“I do what I can,” Magnus says solemnly, although he’s unable to stop the grin spreading across his face to match the one Alec is sporting.

Alec forces himself to look away. He’d probably end up doing anything Magnus asked him to wearing that smile.

“So, uh. What happens now?” Alec asks, serious once more.

“Well, I suppose there are two options,” Magnus considers. “Number one, you get in that car and you don’t look back as it drives away. Or number two, you use that gorgeous mouth of yours to kiss me goodbye and promise me a date when I’m back in the city.” He shrugs one shoulder, smiling as he meets Alec’s eyes. “I know which option I want.”

The last traces of worry from earlier dissipate from Alec’s body. Maybe Magnus feels just as much as he does too. Maybe he overreacted. Maybe he should listen to his sister and Simon when they tell him not to overthink things.

Alec takes a step closer to Magnus. He’s pretty certain but he asks anyway. “And which option is that?”

Magnus closes the rest of the distance between them, stepping forward and placing his hand on the side of Alec’s neck. His thumb rubs back and forth over the skin there.

“I think you already know,” he murmurs against Alec’s mouth, the gentle brush of his lips teasing Alec before he properly brings their mouths together.

When he pulls away he presses a piece of paper into Alec’s hand. His phone number.

“Use it,” he pointedly tells Alec.

“I will,” swears Alec. He glances behind him, at Raj waiting in the car and doing a terrible job of pretending not to be paying attention. “We should probably- I mean, I have to go.”

“If you must,” Magnus says.

“That album about you isn’t going to write itself.”

Magnus smiles. He brings his hand up to Alec’s cheek. “Go do your job, superstar.”

Alec allows himself a moment to soak up the warmth from Magnus’ palm, refusing to succumb to the sudden rush of sadness welling up inside him. They may not have known each other very long, and the goodbye may only be for a few days, but it’s still hard. Alec sucks in a breath and turns away.

As he settles in the backseat of the car it’s impossible not to see the look Raj is giving him the the rearview mirror.

“Not one word,” Alec simply warns, before tipping his head back against the headrest and feigning sleep until he arrives back home.

 

-

 

“Hey, do you mind if we take a quick break?”

Simon immediately freezes in place, no longer idly strumming his guitar and testing out new chords. His eyes narrow towards Alec. “Is that a trick question?”

From his piano, Alec frowns back. “No?”

Visibly relaxing, Simon picks up his strumming again. “Wow, Maia was right about you going on holiday.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just. Before you went away you used to be so… uptight. You _never_ took breaks like this. Sometimes we used to end up being trapped in this room writing for so long I thought I would actually die in here. What _happened_ on that trip?” Alec can practically see the cogs turning in Simon’s brain. He wills them to stop. “Oh my God, did you get laid?”

“Simon-”

“You _did_ , didn’t you?”

“Can you not discuss my sex life with the entire recording studio, please.”

Although Simon doesn’t shut up, he does mercifully lower his voice slightly. “It all makes sense now - all those sappy love songs that have practically been falling out of your brain. I was wondering where your sudden burst of inspiration came from. So who’s the lucky guy?”

“Nope.” Alec closes his moleskine notebook and puts it on top of the piano. “I am _not_ having this conversation with you,” he tells Simon. “And don’t you dare mention this to Izzy or Maia. Or… anyone.”

“Wow,” Simon winces. “That bad, huh?”

“No, it was fine. Great, even. Mostly.” Alec shrugs. “He was really- I mean, he gave me his number before I left.”

Simon waggles his eyebrows lewdly. “And?”

“And what?”

“Have you _used_ it?”

Alec comtemplates lying just to get Simon off his case and for this conversation to be _over_ , but he hesitates a moment too long and Simon flashes him an unimpressed look.

“Seriously, dude?” Simon moves his guitar to one side, turns his body so his full attention is on Alec. Alec wonders at what point this writing session turned into a therapy session. “Why not?”

“I don’t know… what if he’s changed his mind?” Alec says. “It’s been almost two weeks since we- since we saw each other, he might’ve forgotten all about me or decided it was the worst decision he ever made, or-”

“Or is waiting patiently for the cute guy he gave his number to, to actually call him,” Simon interrupts, his arched eyebrow turning into a softer expression when Alec remains quiet. “Alec. You obviously like this guy.”

“You don’t know- I haven’t even mentioned him.”

Simon nods towards the notebook sitting on top of the piano. “Yes you have.”

“Okay,” Alec relents. “Maybe I have. Once or twice.”

“Once or twice,” Simon repeats with a smile. He picks his guitar back up and strums absentmindedly. “But you will, right?” he asks eventually. “Use his number, I mean.”

Alec sighs. “I don’t kn-”

“Alec, come on. Stop overthinking things. You like him, and he must like you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have given you his number. Don’t be an idiot. Use it.”

 _Use it._ The same words Magnus told him before he left.

Alec slips his hand into his jeans pocket. Magnus has probably been home for days now. Alec hopes he hasn’t given up on him.

Wordlessly, he gets up from the piano, refusing to acknowledge the juvenile song Simon has started making up about the whole situation as he crosses over to the door.

“If you’re still singing this when I come back then I’m finding a new songwriting partner,” Alec tells him, and then leaves the room.

When he makes it down to the street, tucked down the alleyway between the studio and the building next door and certain Simon isn’t anywhere in earshot, Alec calls Magnus.

Magnus picks up on the third ring. He sounds like he’s at work, if the voices in the background are anything to go by.

“Magnus? It’s Alec. You know, from the, uh, Mayflower Resort.”

“Alec! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. I thought maybe you’d forgotten about little old me - or misplaced my number, at least.”

Alec thinks about the piece of paper he’s kept safely tucked in his jeans pocket ever since Magnus gave him it. “Never.”

Alec smiles at the little amused him Magnus gives him.

“Give me a moment, I’ll just find somewhere a bit quieter.”

“I can call back if you’re busy,” offers Alec.

“Nonsense,” Magnus scoffs, “I’ve been waiting to hear from you ever since I got home. I’m not letting you get away that easily.” Alec hears the sound of a door closing as Magnus shuts himself away from the rest of the world. “Okay, I’m all yours.”

“I am sorry, by the way. For taking so long to call you. I just had so much on with work, and all these writing sessions and I-”

“Alec,” Magnus cuts him off, Alec able to hear the smile through the phone, “it’s fine. I was just teasing you. I’m well aware you have a very busy life.”

“Oh,” Alec says dumbly.

“But since we’re speaking of work, how _is_ that album coming along?”

“It’s… yeah, it’s good. Took a bit of a different turn to my last album. A lot more optimistic.”

“Hmm,” Magnus adopts a flirty tone. “Must’ve been some muse you found yourself.”

“I’ll say,” Alec plays along. “Although, actually, I could always do with a bit more inspiration.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I… You wanna, I don’t know, maybe get a drink sometime?”

Magnus’ reply is instant.

“I would love that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [@theparabatri](http://theparabatri.tumblr.com/)


End file.
